


Quiet Lover

by grimparadigms



Series: widojest week 2019 [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, other member's of the m9 make small appearances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 16:38:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19772206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimparadigms/pseuds/grimparadigms
Summary: Jester, being the best friend anyone could ask for, agrees to stay with Caleb for the night to give Beau and Yasha some privacy.





	Quiet Lover

**Author's Note:**

> We're nearing the end of Widojest Week, and I'm real sad about it. I don't have anything for Day 6, and I'll be delayed posting Day 4 (but it's coming I swear....)
> 
> For Day 5: There's Only One Bed

“Who’s a good boy?”

Jester squats beside Yarnball, affectionately watching him tear apart his third meal today— she’d been feeding him several pounds of meat she had bought at the local butcher’s—and blood now coating his snout. Still, she couldn’t resist resting her hand atop his head, even if he was _gross_.

“You’re the best killing machine,” she whispers, “Don’t tell your brothers.”

 _I think I’d rather be out here with you_ , she sighs, gently running her hand across the curve of Yarnball’s neck. Although the stables were smelly and small, it was preferable to returning to the inn—where undoubtedly all her friends were still drinking. She didn’t mind, she tried to convince herself, even if she did grow tired that every town they stopped in, her friends drank till the world was blurry and spinning. 

Maybe, just _maybe_ , she was scared they were using the alcohol to cope, and then it wouldn’t be just Nott she worried about. But also, maybe, she was feeling a little tired of trying to sit at a table where alcohol seemed a better friend to them than her.

So she stayed outside with Yarnball, for almost an hour just supplying him with food until he looked at her with his round, sleepy eyes and stalked to the corner of the stables, and she was left with little choice but to return. 

She didn’t get far, turning the corner and walking right into Beau, both dazed as they knocked heads.

“Ow, Beau? What are you—”

“So you really were out here all this time.” Beau looks past her, toward the resting moorbounders, and wrinkles her nose. “Weird choice of companionship, Jess.”

“Weeeeelllll, Yarnball was hungry!”

She nods before releasing a breath, a sheepish smile finding its way to her lips. “I-I had a favor. You can say no.” I won’t, she thinks. “Yasha and I—we never get any time alone—we’ve been traveling for almost a week nonstop. We’re just a little tired of sharing a space, and so….”

“Oh!” Jester felt relief, grinning at her embarrassed friend. She wiggles her brows, “You want to have sex.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to say _it_ , but yeah.”

She felt the sides of her lips twitch. _Jealous? Am I jealous?_ Jester is quick to make sure her smile doesn’t falter, because no one is gonna get in the way of Beau and Yasha and their _alone time_ , least of all her. She’s so happy for them, so why is she feeling a little sad?

“Beau, you don’t even have to ask! You and Yasha deserve it,” she winks.

“Well, yeah, definitely. After some of those shitty fights we’ve been in? I could use someone to rub my shoulders.” She’s rubbing at her lower lip, and Jester moves her eyes to the ground. “But the reason I’m even asking, Jess, is because—well the one room left is with Caleb. And I know—”

“Caleb?” Her voice is a squeak, and she can feel her face burning now. 

“Fjord and Caduceus are all buddy buddy now. Nott and Yeza obviously are sharing a room, and well, that leaves you and Caleb.”

“W-What did he say—about rooming together? Did he….” _Was he annoyed? Did his cheeks turn that adorable shade of pink? Did he care at all?_

“He doesn’t mind if you don’t mind.”

“Oh,” she could feel her heart pounding in her chest now at the idea. The idea of lying alone beside Caleb, in a _bed_ , had definitely been a thought in her mind on more than one occasion. “Then it’s fine, Beau.”

“Don’t feel pressured to say yes if you think it’s weird.”

“It’s not weird, Beau.” She tries to let out a light laugh, but Beau’s already arching her brow, and reading her face. Jester dodges past her friend, trying to walk back toward the inn.

“Jester….”

“It’s not weird, Beau!” She shouts back, refusing to turn around.

It’s totally not weird to sleep beside the person you’ve been crushing on for months. It’s not weird at all. 

\--- 

The inn was mostly empty, except for the barmaid content on wiping at already clean tables; slapping a washcloth down before moving in slow wide, lazy circles. Jester tapped her fingers against the smooth edge of the table, choosing to stare down the barmaid instead of looking to Caleb across from her. He at least had a book in hand, his blue eyes only giving her casual glances, his book far more interesting. 

She wondered if he was just as nervous to return to the room, even if they were both tired from their long trip. Maybe she was the only one whose stomach was in knots at the idea. It wasn’t a big deal at all! They were friends, and friends sometimes shared a bed, and most of the time it didn’t mean anything at all. Still she could feel the energy within her surging. _Tap, tap, tap_. The barmaid still with her lazy circles. Jester chewed on her lip, wanting to rip that rag from the woman’s hands. 

_Oh, Traveler, what do I do?_

He flips another page, and she wishes she could lean against his shoulder, poking her head into his book, drawing along the margins. She wants to hear that low chuckle beside her. She wants _many_ things, and so she continues to tap, tap, tap. 

They sit there for ten minutes, fifteen minutes, and when it nears the thirty minute mark she begins to burst. She stands from her seat abruptly, watching him jump, those light eyes of his shaken away from his book. 

“I’m going to bed.”

He nods. “Alright.”

She continues to stand there, watching as his eyes look to his book and then back to her—as if he’s trying to figure her out. The words are still stuck in her throat. 

“What’s—” Something in his expression shifts, and his once soft expression begins to match her own. “Ah, you would like me to go with you.”

He swallows and closes his book so slowly, a familiar distance returning to his eyes. When he stands, she decides to lead them to the room, reluctance with each step. She hated that nervousness was overtaking her, and she didn’t want Caleb to notice the way her hands shook or the flush that wouldn’t leave her skin. It was just sleeping, so why the hell did she feel so nervous?

When she pushed open the door, her foot caught on the doorway, and she tumbled forward. Before she could face plant into the floorboards, she felt an arm quickly lock around her waist, holding her upright. 

“Careful there.” 

“Clumsy me,” she found herself saying, her voice barely audible, a surge of sadness pulling in her chest when he pulls his arm away. 

The room is small—barely eight feet wide—with paneled walls marked with old scratches and a small dresser pressed into a corner, clearly trying to hide a tear in the wall. The only appeal the room held was the bed at the center—with two flattened pillows, and dusty white sheets. 

She could get ahold of herself; she knew how to put on the face of another, more poised girl who could spin flattery with ease. She _could_ , but this was Caleb. The facade falls away so easily around him. Even she couldn’t figure out how he could see through her act—practiced for years, with her smile that could dazzle anyone. 

“I could try to sleep on the floor,” he immediately offers, trying to squeeze between the bed and the wall. 

She rolls her eyes, “Don’t be silly, Caleb. You’re not sleeping on the floor.”

“I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable, Jester.”

She sighs, looking at the hunch in his shoulders and the way his nails scratch against the bare skin of his forearm—the scars almost invisible in the dim light. She wants to catch his hands in hers, but she wants a great many impossible things. “We sleep beside each other all the times in the bubble! This isn’t different!” A lie, that they both knew. This was different because they were _alone_. “You slept with Nott all the time before, so if you’re nervous just pretend I’m her!” 

She wanted to smack her hand to own face. _Pretend I’m Nott?_ Was every word out of her mouth tonight going to be tongue in cheek? Maybe he would just laugh at the notion, but the lines of his mouth stayed flat. 

“You are definitely not Nott.”

She let out an awkward laugh. “Well, yeah! I’m blue!” _Traveler help her—she was going to crash and burn_. “I might not be as small, but I’m really good at cuddling.”

There. She watches the laughter lines appear and he’s shaking his hair into his face to hide that sweet blush of his, and that knot in her stomach unravels into warmth. 

“Oh, liebeling, I am sure you are an expert cuddler.” 

“I really am. And I’m going to prove it.”

“Oh?”

She’s standing at the foot of the bed, burning through a hundred thoughts and the swell of warmth in her chest—but she’s feeling a bit lost in those curious eyes. The low cadence of his accent always catches her, making her rub the palms of her hands against her dress. She held his gaze just long enough before she shifts her eyes away, keeping the toothy smile on just for him.

“Well, I need to change so if you could just…” she makes a motion with her fingers and somehow that is what seems to cause him to falter.

“A-Ah, of course! I’ll just—” He turns away from her, and she begins to pull off her clothes—painstakingly slow as she can manage just to watch him squirm. She keeps her eyes to his back, wondering if any part of him wished he could turn around.

“All done!” She chirps, folding her clothes and laying them with her haversack, waiting for him to turn around before she does a little spin. She’s only in her lavender slip now, and she’s feeling bold and excited—which is dangerous.

She steps onto the bed, her legs a little wobbly as they sink into the mattress. There’s hardly any firmness but she keeps her balance, stepping over to his side so she’s finally just a little taller than him. She’s just close enough to feel his breath, as he slowly lifts his head to look at her. Her tail finds its way to his chin, touching him lightly enough that she shivers.

“Your turn, Caleb.”

It would be so easy to kiss him—they’ve done it before—she could close the distance in half a second. She still thinks about it every night, even in her dreams, except it ends much differently. In her dreams, her subconscious is kind and when he kisses her, it’s full of love and passion, and it’s not a joke at all. He holds her like she’ll keep him afloat, as if he’d be drowning without her.

“Do you want me to turn around?” She asks.

“Nein. You don't have to.” He unravels the scarf from his neck, then pulling out the two books at his side, and tugging off his harness. “I have nothing to hide.”

He holds her gaze, assured and trusting, and something else she can’t read. He’s methodical with each piece, his fingers pop open buttons and undo straps with such ease, and she finds that she’s been holding her breath. She collapses to bed after a few moments, feeling a little too weak in the knees.

When he’s done he still has on that worn undershirt and trousers, and she feels a little bitter that she’s so exposed and he’s still covered up. But his shirt is just low enough that she can see peeks of red hair on his chest, and she decides that’s a small gift in a way.

He climbs onto the bed, and she scoots away to give him room. She’s watching everything he does so intently: the shifting of the bed as he gets comfortable, the tug of the blanket over his legs and lap, the way his hands grip at the sheets for too long. The curls of his hair frame his face and he looks angelic, and softer than she’s seen him _ever_. For almost a moment, she can imagine that a hard life has never touched him—he’s just a man with beautiful, blue eyes who only loves books and no part of him burns, or aches. She can pretend there is no trace of hurt.

She scoots closer before the moment falls away. She wants to hold him, kiss him, hear him whisper low in her ear. Gently, she rests her hand on his clenched fist.

“Caleb?” 

She waits for him to look at her; there’s cautiousness written all over his face, and she knows if she looked deeper she would see fear. But she hates this. They teeter on the edge with one another, dancing along uncrossed boundaries, dipping their toes in before retreating. She wants to jump in, drown in something unknown, but she doesn’t want to jump alone. 

“Do I make you nervous?”

“Ja,” the red curls over his eyes. “You are… You are a lot.”

“Is that bad?” Her voice is barely above a whisper and she feels it, as she always does, the need to retreat. They’ll push each other away and hide behind artificial smiles until they can recover their courage. 

“No.” Then firmer, “No.” He flips his hand over to hold hers, and she feels the heat immediately. Those blackened fingers curl around hers, and she feels a little braver. “You are just different from me—from everyone. You are lively and loving and—”

“But I am too much,” she finishes.

“Scheisse, I am saying this all wrong.” He squeezes her hand tighter, this time shaking away the strands from his face. “You are everything, Jester. If-if anything, you are the sun and when I look at you, I burn.”

She cocks her head, desperate to understand if he means to say she’s hurting him. She doesn’t think, only follows her body. Her lips are already on his, leaning in to fill the gap between them. She kisses him because he’s wrong, so wrong, and she doesn’t know how to explain how wrong he is. The only warmth here is him and the way he makes her feel, because otherwise her chest feels cold and heavy. 

The kiss is slow, and she waits; gives him time to pull away and refuse her. But his free hand finds its way to waist, pulling her closer.. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she wants to kiss him till she can’t breathe, till she’s melted into him, until every part of her is burning from his touch. 

She’s crossed the line now and she doesn’t care. Her hand is lost in his soft hair, and her mouth is learning the taste of him. She learns quick how to casually move against him until zemnian is hot against her lips, and he tries desperately to suppress groans. It only motivates her to push him further, until they are both across that line with no hope of turning back.

“I won’t burn you,” she pulls away for a moment, looking at his flushed face and dazed eyes. “I promise, Caleb.”

Clarity returns to him, and the smile that was for her—made for her—falls away like a wilting flower. It was so fast that she watched those walls reemerge, and the distance return, and his hands fall away. 

“I’m sorry I-,” he fumbles and clears his throat. “I don’t know why I did that. I shouldn’t have…. I shouldn’t have encouraged that.” 

“But I kissed you—”

“Even so.”

He’s curling towards the edge of the bed, and she’s still there—frozen and in disbelief—and all that warmth in her body turns to ice. He turns his whole body away from her so she can’t read anything but the tension in his shoulders.

“We should sleep, ja?”

Sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. This was a rare moment where she had Caleb alone, and even better, he did not have a book in hand to distract him. She had to use it to her advantage somehow.

“Caleb, please look at me,” she says calmly, her hands balled into fists in her lap.

No, she wasn’t the sun at all; she was the ocean, with all its stillness before the storm. Right now she felt like a wave of ice crashing to the shore, splintering into a million sparkling pieces, sharp and ready to hurt. It felt oddly like drowning in her own skin, the air caught in her throat. She had to remember to breathe. 

She would stare into his back until he felt her sharp, icy gaze. It wasn’t always fire that burned; ice brought a different kind of burning ache. Could he feel that?

He turns slowly, twisting beneath the sheets until she can finally see his face again, his eyes vacant. She tries to match his position, finally tucking herself beneath the blankets, but giving him an ample amount of space. It feels like in such a short amount of time he’s built a wall between them—cracked and vulnerable, but tall and looming. She can feel it, along with everything else.

“Talk to me.” She keeps her voice even. “Please.”

He takes a moment. “About what?”

“Anything. About your favorite holiday, about your favorite subject in school, tell me a joke—even if it’s in zemnian.” She swallows, and refuses to let her voice shake. “Tell me about it all.”

“I-”

“Wait,” she interrupts. “Where’s Frumpkin?”

With a snap of his fingers, their furry friend poofs into existence in between them, already stretching and blinking his sleepy eyes.

“Lumpy!” She’s already reaching out for him, to scratch his favorite spots and letting him lean into her hand, already purring loudly. “Thank you, Caleb.”

“Winter’s Crest.” He stares at Frumpkin, his voice low enough that she has to lean a bit to hear. “At home, the fields become white and the snowfall feels more like a gift than a burden. There is no work, so you can stay inside for hours by the hearth, reading.”

“I’ve never celebrated it,” she notes, remembering how she’d read a book on the different cultures of Exandria. Nicodranas was never one to do much for the supposed colder months of the year. “But I hear it’s fun.”

“I haven’t celebrated it since I was a child.”

“We could change that.” She imagines when they return to their home in Rosohna, they could decorate the hallways and doors, light candles and bake sweets, and she could give gifts to all her friends. There wouldn’t be snow, but maybe the Traveler could show her a few tricks and she could _pretend_ there was snow. Magic was useless if it couldn’t be used for fun. “It’s only a month away. We could celebrate it together this year. Maybe.”

She’s already thinking of gifts now, and how many easy pranks she could pull—all wrapped up in pretty papers and bows. Nott could hide in a box and jump out when Fjord unwrapped his gift! The holiday would be filled with laughter and trickery, and it would be the best first Wintercrest as a family. 

“What would you want?”

“Easy. Paper.”

She giggles, and his lips twitch into the small smile he can’t resist. “And incense?”

“And incense,” he agrees.

“What about you, Frumpkin?” She coos at the animal beside her, scritching just below his chin. “Do you want a little collar with some flowers?” She gasps in realization. “Or a little bowtie!”

Caleb is smiling genuinely again, and all that tension that hung in the air begins to disperse. She’s grinning too, fondly looking between Frumpkin and Caleb, kissing the top of Frumpkin’s head.

“You want a cute little bowtie, don’t you? I can tell.”

Frumpkin pressed up into her chin, purring even louder, his whiskers brushing against her face. She giggles, smothering the cat with kisses. It takes her awhile to look up again toward Caleb, and her heart stutters in her chest. He’s looking at her with such affection, and she’s suddenly so happy, she’s ready to burst. It’s always there, the temptation to throw her arms around him and kiss him until she’s sore. So instead she buries her face into Frumpkin, to hide her own shameful thoughts into the softness of his fur. 

“Frumpkin, can you tell Caleb I’m sorry?” She’s whispering to the feline, knowing fully that Caleb can hear every word. “I don’t want him to be mad at me.”

She sneaks a glance at Caleb, and he’s still looking at her fondly—so she gets bold again, maneuvering around Fumpkin to get closer to Caleb, until she’s pressed up against his side. She gives him a moment, trying to calm her beating heart, but he doesn’t push her away. 

“I don’t think kissing you was a mistake,” she tells him, and he’s quiet, but he doesn’t reject her. “I know I made it weird. I’m sorry.”

She presses her forehead into his shoulder before tentatively looking up at him. He gives her a soft, crooked smile and she feels exponentially lighter.

“I am still getting used to-to being a person. And I never intend to hurt you.” His arm snakes around her waist, resting there. “So I am sorry, if I reacted in a way that made you feel—made you feel that for a moment I did not want you.”

She bites into her lower lip, watching him struggle to find the words, his voice thickening at the last sentence. It takes everything in her to not kiss him again.

“You want me?”

“Jes—oh don’t look at me like that.” The blush returns to his cheeks and she giggles at his side, nuzzling in closer. “Things are good right now. Let’s not ruin it.”

She won’t argue with him, even if her heart yearns for more. Pushing him further away is the last thing she wants. She can _try_ to be patient, if only for the possibility of something more. He’s so warm beside her, and she breathes him in deeply, like she’s settling beside a campfire.

They stay awake for a few hours longer, unable to pull themselves from one another, even when their eyes get heavy and their conversations slow. In her somnolent state, she cracks a couple of stupid innuendos, embarrassing enough that her cheeks became warm and he laughs against her, making her silly jokes worth it. Every chance she has, she cuddles in closer letting her cold hands find any exposed spot of warmth she can—enjoying the way he shivers beside her. Eventually she falls asleep, unable to fight her own exhaustion.

She woke first the next morning, Caleb still warm in her arms. It took a mental battle to pull herself away from him and get dressed, trying not to combust from adoration and excitement. She could barely tiptoe out the door, giving a sleeping Caleb one final look before she gently closed the door behind her. She could only manage a few quiet steps before she began skipping down the hall and down the stairs to check if anyone was awake yet. She had to find Beau.

Most of the Mighty Nein were sitting at a table across the room, plates piled with food and mugs between them. Jester bounced over to the table, sporting a cheerful smile. “Good morning,” she greets them in a sing-song voice.

“Morning,” they return with less enthusiasm.

“You’re in a good mood,” Beau narrows her eyes.

Jester only hums to herself before squeezing into the spot between Nott and Beau, picking bits of meat off of Beau’s plate. Strange how she barely slept, and yet she feels like she’s never slept better.

“I’m the one who just got laid, and yet you’re over here looking like you just had the best night of your life.”

Nott gasps, “Maybe she and Caleb—“

“Okay, can we not?” Fjord interjects. They ignore him.

“Oh gods, she and Caleb?”

“I should have given him the talk beforehand.”

Jester keeps up her elusive smile while idly eating, letting her friends look at her with abject horror or utter shock, except for Caduceus who only gives her pleasant smile. Honestly, she’d let them guess at it for hours if it meant she didn’t have to give up her new favorite memory. This one was just for her.

They spend the next five to ten minutes arguing over the odds that she and Caleb had sex. She’s highly amused and refuses to answer any of their questions, enjoying the conversation too much. Caleb, with his perfect timing, sauntering down the stairs—rubbing at his eyes, and stifling a yawn. He’s tamed his hair back into a bun, and settled back into his usual attire. She greets him with a grin, still thinking of him fast asleep beside her.

“Sleep well?” Nott asks.

“As much as one can,” he yawns again, settling beside Nott.

“We didn’t get much sleep,” Jester adds, “Did we, Caleb?”

Caleb’s cheeks are already burning red as he opens his mouth to reply. Beau is groaning beside her, “ _Oh my god_.” Fjord has already stood with his plate, looking for a new table to sit at.

“Caleb, I’m so proud of you!” Nott is already saying, both hands on his cheeks, squeezing until his mouth is squished open.

He only looks from his friends to Jester, mumbling, “Oh, dear. I-It's not—“

Watching the chaos of a simple misunderstanding unfold is almost on par with her previous night. Almost. She lets it play out for as long as she can, letting her friends ruminate on the idea that she and Caleb just went completely feral in the bedroom, until she decides to show some mercy to Caleb’s burning face and simply tells them, “We only stayed up talking. What did you guys think I meant?”

They groaned, not nearly as amused as she was. Nott looks almost disappointed that they had spent all that time alone only to waste it talking. She slumped her shoulders as she stalked up the stairs to wake Yeza.

“You are a mischievous little creature,” Caleb rubs at the stubble on his chin, the pink finally beginning to fade away. He’s looking at her with those eyes again, and she can’t contain herself when he looks at her like that. She moves to the chair where Nott once sat, and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Worth it,” she giggles, before jumping away, the flush of her cheeks mirroring his.


End file.
